


I've got a lot to learn (you've got a lot to give)

by RedWritingHood



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: And Tendencies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Connor being worrisome, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts, The Bridge Scene™, also because Hank, because hank, connor no, he tries at least, maybe? - Freeform, more swearing than is necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 05:12:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedWritingHood/pseuds/RedWritingHood
Summary: He moves forward until the gun presses against his forehead. "Would it help you to shoot me, Lieutenant?"





	I've got a lot to learn (you've got a lot to give)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Ol' Sweet Day by AHI.

"Nice view, huh? I used to come here a lot, before..." Lieutenant Anderson trails off, taking a swig of his whiskey.

Connor glances at him. "You should stop drinking, Lieutenant. It could have serious consquences for your health."

"That's the idea," he mutters, tilting the bottle back.

Connor contemplates taking the liquor away from him, but it didn't go over well at the bar, either. How can he help someone who doesn't want to be helped?

First, he needs to know the cause of the affliction.

"Before what?"

"Hm?"

"You said 'I used to come here a lot before...' Before what?"

"...Before..." Lieutenant Anderson doesn't meet his gaze. "Before nothin'."

"Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Anderson scoffs, finally looking at him. "Do all androids ask so many personal questions, or is it just you?"

Connor frowns at him, crossing his arms. "Why are you so determined to kill yourself?"

He doesn't expect him to answer, but Lieutenant Anderson frequently manages to surprise him. "Some things I just can't forget. Whenever I do, they're always _there_...eatin' away at me. I don't have the guts to pull the trigger, so...I kill myself a little every day..." He glances at him, then away. "That's probably difficult for you to understand, huh, Connor? Nothin' very rational about it..."

No. Nothing rational at all. But feelings, it seems, are not the least bit logical. What emotions can drive a man to do that? Regret? Guilt? Shame? All of the above?

Is Connor allowed to stand by and let him do that? He's not supposed to embroil himself in human affairs like that. He has a job to do. But...he wouldn't be a very good partner that way, would he?

Connor is a state-of-the-art prototype, the latest and most advanced of his kind. He was made to be the best. To be useful and worthy.

Above all things, Connor is a good android.

Connor decides to change the subject, as the likelihood of Lieutenant Anderson divulging the source of his distress is 17.5% and further talk of it would improve his mood -11.6%. He walks forward, stopping before he reaches the railing that overlooks the dark, murky river. "We haven't made any progress on this investigation. The deviants have nothing in common. They're all different models, produced at different times, in different places..." His brows furrows as he talks, and he turns slightly to look at Lieutenant Anderson.

"Well, there must be _some_ link," he provides, not offering any suggestions.

Of course, Connor doesn't have any either, so he can't blame him for being of no assistance.

Nevertheless, Connor tries. "It could be a software problem...that...only occurs under certain conditions?" He's aware of how very doubtful he sounds.

"Well, that's just a fancy way of sayin' you have no fuckin' idea."

At least he's attempting to discern the problem. The Lieutenant doesn't even seem to care.

Actually, he's been like that for a while now.

"You seem preoccupied, Lieutenant." Connor shifts to fully face him, stepping forward. "Is it...something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?"

Lieutenant Anderson's expression is unexpectedly troubled. "Those two girls...they just wanted to be together. They really seemed...in love."

Does the Lieutenant relate to them because of the way the deviants acted? "They can simulate human emotions, but they're machines. And machines don't _feel_ anything," Connor reminds him.

"What about you, Connor?" Lieutenant Anderson takes one more drink of his whiskey before putting it down on the bench and pushing himself to his feet. "You look human...you sound human..." He studies him like he's searching for something. "...but what are you _really_?"

Connor lets him look. "I'm whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant." He offers him a small, patient smile. "Your partner...your buddy to drink with...or just a machine, designed to accomplish a task."

Lieutenant Anderson steps closer. "You could've shot those two girls, but you didn't." Suddenly, he shoves Connor, causing him to stumble back. "Why didn't you _shoot_ , Connor?"

Connor's eyes are wide, caught off guard by the unexpected aggression.

"Hm?" Lieutenant Anderson sneers. "Some _scruples_ suddenly enter into your program?"

"No! I just...decided not to shoot. That's all." Connor ignores the weakness in the argument.

The Lieutenant pulls out his gun, pointing it straight at Connor's head. "But are you afraid to die, Connor?" His words are calm, his gaze steady. He's serious.

Connor meets his eyes. "You can't kill me, Lieutenant. I'm not alive."

Lieutenant Anderson's face is creased in a frown. Connor did not answer his question correctly, he can see. It's unfortunate that he cannot see humans' stress levels the way he can for androids.

"What will happen if I pull this trigger?" Lieutenant Anderson asks. "Nothing? Oblivion?" His mouth twitches upwards, mirthless. "Android heaven?"

Connor meets Lieutenant Anderson's eyes over the barrel of his gun. He thinks about the rooftop and _No, Daniel, please!_ and the push, the fall, the **_MISSION: SUCCESSFUL_** and the wind in his ears, deafening him.

The memory file stops there. He doesn't remember the impact. Only the darkness afterwards.

Then being activated to continue the mission.

He hopes the Lieutenant knows that he thought about this. That he considered his response in all earnestness, because he _knows_.

"Nothing...There would be nothing."

Lieutenant Anderson's hand is shaking.

Connor was not necessarily made to assist humans in distress, but...he would like to.

He moves forward until the gun presses against his forehead. "Would it help you to shoot me, Lieutenant?"

"What the fu--?!" Lieutenant Anderson jerks back, but Connor reaches up and grabs his wrist, keeping the gun in place. The Lieutenant's eyes are wide. Connor can see the redness in them, likely caused by sleep deprivation and heavy drinking. "What the _fuck_ , Connor?!"

"Would it help you if you shot me, Lieutenant Anderson?"

"Wha...Are you fuckin' crazy? Why would you even ask that?"

"I want to help you. If shooting me will improve your overall health, I have no objections."

The tremors in Lieutenant Anderson's hand have worsened.

That's okay. Connor will hold him steady. "Please shoot me, Lieutenant."

"Fuck." Lieutenant Anderson's heart rate is above average. His breath quivers when he inhales. "Only one of us's s'posed to be suicidal, here."

"I'm not suicidal," Connor refutes. "I just want to help you. I don't mind. I told you, I'm not really alive. You won't have to feel guilty for killing me."

"You...are you serious? Why? There's no way in hell this is part of your programming...right?"

Connor doesn't understand the look on the Lieutenant's face. "This isn't part of my mission objective, no. But I was made to be productive, and if I am in a position to assist you, then I will. Making use of me is only reasonable."

"'Making use of you'... _fuck_ ," Lieutenant Anderson whispers. "That's...that's messed up, Con. That's really fucking messed up. And you don't even realize it..."

Connor's grasp on Lieutenant Anderson's wrist slackens, uncertain. The Lieutenant seems even more distressed than he was before, and it's Connor's fault. "I'm...I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I don't know what I did wrong."

Lieutenant Anderson exhales, pulling away from Connor and lowering the gun. "It's not your fault, kid. You just wanna be useful. Christ, what do I even do with you?"

Connor doesn't know how to answer that. He doesn't know much of anything, it seems.

"C'mon, let's get outta here. It's way too cold and I'm way too sober for this."

Connor follows him to the car. "If you're going home, you can drop me off at the precinct on the way."

"You're stayin' there? Jesus, no wonder you're always early."

"Or you're always late," Connor points out.

Lieutenant Anderson ignores that. "You're crashing on my couch tonight. It's not a five star hotel, but 'least it's not the fuckin' precinct."

"Lieutenant, there's no need--"

"What, you don't wanna say hi to Sumo again?"

Connor pauses. After a moment of consideration, he decides to pick his battles, and chooses a different route. "You should get at least eight hours of sleep for optimal energy levels."

"Eh, I won't complain if it happens."

"And a more conscientious choice of food would also improve your health," he adds.

"That's less likely to occur."

"But if you just--"

"Don't push it, Connor."

Connor falls silent.

Humans, and Lieutenant Anderson in particular, are irrational beings, he decides

Lieutenant Anderson glances at him, then sighs. "Look, I'll try, okay?"

Well, maybe they aren't too bad.

"That's all I can ask, Lieutenant," Connor replies, smiling.


End file.
